Those with Destiny of Travesty
by skylights22
Summary: No idea what was running through my head when I came up with this, but I like the result as strange as it is . Snape never would have imagined that his actions could lead to anything as disastrous as the events that took place that Halloween. DMHPTR


The Potions room had not changed in a thousand years. The walls were stained with formidable grey. The stone was pocked from explosions and acidic spills. It still carried the same scent of earth and paraldehyde. The bitterness of ripening creatures and herbs clung to shelves and dark desks.

Severus had grown up in this room and it was this room that had taught him of the corrosive and volatile mixtures that were not on the school's curriculum. And now that he was teaching, it was where he set instructions on the blackboard in his flowing script and the young adepts filled their cauldrons while the room began to fill with smoke. Severus was always careful to renew the wards on the room, to purify the tables and instruments before each class, and to never let any of the more gruesome ingredients wander into foolhardy hands.

So, despite his history with the Gryffindor/Slytherin class of 1996, he was still reassured that his precautions would not amount to anything a trip to the infirmary could not fix. He would never have believed that his actions could lead to anything as disastrous as the events that took place on the Halloween night before seventh period. Had his attention not been on the bumbling of Neville Longbottom, he probably could have avoided the calamity taking place at the third row seat where Ron Weasley and Harry Potter were stirring their potion.

He probably would have seen Theodore Nott flinging the lampade wing across the room and froze the thin limp before it hit Harry Potter's head, mixing into his hair and falling into the bubbling mixture just beginning to froth in the fourth stage of reaction. He probably could have stopped Harry's elbow from knocking back into Ron and causing his handful of discarded littengloss leaves to topple into the potion. As it were, he could only turn his head and witness the explosion that proceeded to take place. His shout went unheard as Pansy Parkinson at the table above them slipped from the blinding shock of light that swept through the room. Her own cauldron, progressed to the sixth stage, tipped over the counter dumping itself onto Harry.

The potion, designed to duplicate essential potion ingredients for wide distribution, sunk into Harry's skin. He wiped the mixture from his eyes as the lampade and littengloss that had spilt over his robes burned through the fabric, making contact with flesh. He screamed. Snape ran forward for damage control but there was nothing he could do. The class watched as Harry was slowly sunk into a bright glow, his arms wrapped around his abdomen. Snape was forced to shut his eyes, and when the flash ended, he was greeted with the sight of one unconscious Potter on the floor, his robes burnt and hissing with fumes, and a second in the same duplicated robes lying across from him.

Snape rubbed his forehead. And it had been such a good day.

---

Two Harry Potters.

He could hardly believe it, but there he was - they were - lying in twin beds in the hospital wing. The only indication that they were different was in the cursed scar on the right's forehead. The left's skin looked new and his hair was downy soft and fell in gentle waves on the pillow, unlike James Potter rowdy mess. It held the scent of a newborn, something fresh and fragile.

Oh sweet Merlin, two Harry Potters.

Dumbledore stood beside him as they watched the youths sleep. Madam Pomfrey bustled between them, checking the angry red scarring on the real Harry's stomach. She checked the clone's pulse hesitantly before looking up and nodding. Snape let his head fall into his hand with an oath.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes conspicuously lacking their usual twinkle.

"I don't know," Snape admitted. "I didn't see it in time."

A groaning filled the room and they stopped. Harry, the real one, leaned up, holding his head and wincing in pain. Poppy was immediately beside him and Dumbledore broke off the interrogation to rush towards the boy's bedside.

"Harry," he said pleadingly. "How do you feel?"

"Professor," he called confusedly. "What happened?"

"We are not sure, Harry. Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

"Ron and I were mixing the Duplication Potion and Nott threw a … something at me."

"It went into the cauldron?" Snape asked.

Harry nodded, disorientated. "It hit my head and fell in. A bumped into Ron and the littengloss fell into in the cauldron."

"What stage was it in?"

"Fourth," he answered, grimacing. There was an awful taste in his mouth. "It exploded and something spilled over my head."

"That was Parkinson's potion," Snape provided. "I'll ask her what stage it was in. What color was your potion?" he asked Harry.

"Magenta, just like you said it should be," he responded with a bit of ire. "Didn't mess it up yet."

Snape snorted.

Movement to their left drew their eyes to the creation on the opposite bed. The clone sat up. It looked around blinking. Its eyes lighted on the only other people in the room. Harry's eyes were wide and his jaw was open. The clone looked back demurely, looking empty and confused.

Snape rose and a good measure of fear suddenly entered the clone's gaze. It scrambled back on the bed until it fell off, landing in an undignified heap on the floor. Snape was shocked by its reaction.

"Severus," Dumbledore started. "Maybe you should give him some space."

"That's me," Harry choked.

The clone had pushed itself up against the wall and was staring at them with a mixture of fear and apprehension. Harry didn't know his eyes could look so disarming. Ignoring several protests, he climbed out of bed. He approached his double, which gazed up at him with wide stark eyes. He crouched down so they were on eye-level.

"Hey," he said in a gentle voice. "Can you understand me?"

The creature opened his mouth and a hissing filled the room. The adults stood stock-still, but Harry smiled and responded in the same tongue. His voice was a light coo as he gently stroked the creature's head.

"_It hurts_," it whined.

"_It's ok. Where did you come from_?"

"_I don't know. But it hurts. Why won't the hurt go away_?"

"_Shh_," Harry lulled. "_Relax. No one is here to hurt you. Relax and it will stop_."

The clone looked up at him with innocent green eyes, the same as his own but less burdened by depression and horror, child-like and trusting. "_You promise_?" it asked.

"_Yes_," Harry answered, the s rolling into a long hiss.

The clone ducked its head. It jumped forward, burying its face into Harry's chest. It sobbed and cried and Harry held him, muttering comfort into its ear.

"_It was so dark. I was alone. I was all alone and no one could hear me. I was so scared_."

"_Shh, I've got you_."

"_Don't leave_," it pleaded, grabbing onto Harry's shirt. "_Please, don't leave me_."

"_I won't_," Harry promised.

It took Harry a while until he was finally able to get a name from the creature. Expecting to hear his own, he was more than shocked to hear the name rolling from the creature's long sweeping tongue.

"_Tom Riddle_."

---

Harry didn't tell anyone. Not even Dumbledore. And he was careful to look neither Dumbledore nor Snape in the eye. He could make a guess at what had happened. The potion had indeed duplicated him, down to the torn and burned robes and bad eyesight, but without Harry's soul, it would have been an empty shell. The piece of Voldemort, trapped inside his mind, had fled at the first opportunity it could get into the duplicated shell.

Why he had decided to protect it was beyond Harry, but the desperation and fear in the creature had overwhelmed him. It wasn't Voldemort. This was a piece of Tom Riddle's soul and part of Harry's own. He could not pretend that the invading presence in his mind had not somehow molded itself to him. He was familiar with the creature's gestures, perhaps the purest part of Voldemort. This was the humanity that Voldemort was trying to rid himself of. He tore his soul apart and the pieces left to the man were nothing more than his urge for vengeance, blood, and murder.

This creature was something that Voldemort had thrown away to gain immortality, his innocence and regret. And the creature had buried itself in Harry's subconscious. He could still feel the connection to it. He found nothing strange in the connection they had. There was no awkwardness in their touches or shared glances. The creature trusted him, able to recognize the home it had shelled itself in for fifteen years.

The creature was unbearably lonely, something that Harry found easy to relate to. The professors looked towards him strangely and Harry could feel their judgment. They thought him half in love with himself. Snape especially thought he harbored the creature out of some sense of arrogant conceit. The creature clung to him, fearful and skittish of everything else around it. Able only to communicate in parseltongue, Harry was its only connection to society. The creature was dependent entirely on its owner.

Harry forbade Dumbledore from banishing it or Snape from experimenting. The creature shivered, tucked into Harry's side. Harry was not used to seeing his face outside a mirror and it was disconcerting to see the obvious fear and wariness in his own eyes. They made the amazing discovery that the creature had no need of sustenance or sleep. It feed on the magic of the castle and Harry, though Harry felt no exhausting pull that he had not felt before.

At night, the creature curled into his side and Harry sheltered it from the world with his arms. The creature hummed in parseltongue and Harry thought it was the most soothing sound he had ever heard. They stayed in the infirmary and though Harry allowed his classmates to visit and explained the situation to both Hermione and Ron, he never left the creature.

No one understood his fixation, but he didn't care. They didn't need to. This part of Riddle's soul had become a part of himself. To abandon it would be like abandoning himself and he had had enough of that already.

Thomas, as he had taken to calling him, was an amazing creation. In the few times when he smiled, it was blinding and warm with the brilliance of innocence. He warmed to praise like he was starved, which Harry could clearly understand. Thomas loved insects. Though animals scared him a bit, he loved to watch the ladybugs and dragonflies dance outside the window. Harry watched him coo to a wasp that had lighted on his finger and was finally able to see something beside himself in Tom's green gaze.

He was beginning to notice little things as well. Tom was slightly smaller than him. Magic did not sustain him as well as nutrients and his stature was shrinking. Not unhealthily but prominently. However, his eyesight had improved with the wells of energy from the castle and he no longer needed glasses. Tom was lighter on his feet. Though Harry was a seeker, he also had the muscles of a flier. Tom was petite and faerie-like. As the days progressed, there was a clear distinction between the scarred boy and his smaller companion. But the resemblance was still too strong for them to be considered anything less than twins.

A second surprise came when Harry was completing the homework he was missing. Tom could not do magic. Though he consumed it, the duplicate could not handle a wand or perform the simplest spells.

They were sitting on the windowsill in the infirmary one evening. Tom was watching a ladybug and Harry was doing his homework. Tom's legs were folded beneath him and Harry had one leg cocked while the other fell off the sill. Tom's knee was touching Harry's bare foot and his finger was playing on the window, eyes wistful and deep. It was here that they received an unexpected visitor.

Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, staring at them both in awe. Harry had always been a charming boy. He was quick-witted and clever. Though short, he had a tall stature with imposing green eyes. He had grown into a well-toned man, quick-footed and benevolent, but Draco had always sensed a piece of darkness in Harry Potter. A bit of vengeful ire in the back of his gaze, a bit of death in his eyes.

The Harry that sat on the sill was arrogant and confidant and Dark. His eyes were hooded over his work and rueful fringe dominated his face. Still Draco could see it in his stance. The darkness that had brooded in the back of his gestures and blossomed to the front, rigid and fierce. The light naiveté that had been Harry was instead in the small creature opposite him. It wasn't Harry. Though it looked remarkably like him, the creature was not Harry. Whosever soul occupied the duplicate, it was not Harry.

Out of all the people that had seen the two together, only Draco noticed.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Harry asked, turning a page in his book.

Draco looked up from his thoughts to see Harry reading over his homework and the smaller not-Harry staring at him.

Draco coughed. "I see the rumors were true," he recited in his usual pompous tone.

"Indeed," Harry said, not looking up from the book.

The not-Harry looked back and forth between the two, alarmed and apprehensive.

"Who's that?" Draco asked.

Harry glanced at his double. "I'd thought it was obvious. He's my duplicate."

Draco snorted. "That soul's not yours," he responded.

Harry looked up at him, interest and surprise surfacing into his changed features. He smiled. "You must know me very well," he said, not bothering to deny it.

The duplicate shifted uncomfortably, not understanding what they were saying. Harry straightened out his leg, pressing it into the double's side. The clone seemed comforted by the touch and calmed slightly. Though he still regarded Draco warily.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

Draco shrugged, taking a casual stance against a bed stand. "I came merely to sate my own curiosity. And to bait you," he admitted. "But I think the situation has changed."

Harry raised one brow. "Has it?" he said, his voice colored by mirth.

Draco shivered and cloaked it by leaning up. "It has."

Harry smiled. "What do you want now?"

There was an undertone to Harry's words that prickled Draco's senses. He couldn't think for a moment.

"I don't know." His eyes swept to the copy. "What is that thing to you?"

"He's my charge," Harry told him in a bored tone that was belied by the depth of his eyes.

Draco looked at him. "He's very pretty."

Harry stared at him for a second before smiling again. "Why Malfoy, was that a proposition?"

Draco snorted. "Hardly, just a statement of fact."

"Really?" Harry responded. He glanced back at his book. "Well, if your curiosity has been sated," he continued, sliding the s on _sated_. "Then, I must return to my work."

Though Draco knew he would get nothing more out of him, he was reluctant to leave. The clone was staring at the seat submissively and his hands were clenched at his sides. He really was very beautiful in a way that very different from Potter. Potter was a fire. He swept through, delighting the destruction in his wake, but this creature was the exact opposite. Liquid, interchangeable and fresh with growth and cool pain, calming the destruction of his owner.

Interesting. And mesmerizing.

---

Harry returned to classes, but his copy was a silent shadow at his side. He was quiet in class, looking to Harry for direction, and though Harry conversed with his classmates and professors, his attention was solely on his charge. Draco watched his friends fret over the interaction. They were worried but they did not understand, not like Draco was beginning to.

They were one and the same, these two Potters. Completely different and equally the same. Opposing forces drawn together. Draco couldn't take his eyes off of them. They were mesmerizing. Harry was a strong presence in every class, down the hall and in the Great Hall. It was offset by the not-Harry's demure manner, its quiet function and dizzying subservience.

They worked well together. Though it was not Harry's soul, they were combined by some strange and Dark magic completely beyond comprehension. Draco caught them in the hall, whispering to each in parseltongue. Harry leaned forward and brushed the bangs from the copy's face. The clone looked unsure but trusting. It smiled shallowly as Harry took its hand and they proceeded down the hall.

Draco saw it on several other occasions as well. Harry's eyes changed when he looked at the smaller him. He softened with a strange gentleness like he was terrified the clone would crumble if he touched it. And the clone responded to no one but Harry. They were a distinctive pair, and Draco could see a world beginning to form around the two.

Grey eyes narrowed in speculation and interest.

---

Harry held the still form of Tom to himself. Thomas was drawing swirls on his arms with his finger. Their legs were twined together. Harry had requested private rooms in the hospital ward. Tom was uncomfortable anywhere else since this was the first place he had known, and though he would have acquiesced to anything Harry offered, Harry wanted the shattered soul to be comfortable. This room was now theirs and no one had the password but the two of them since it was in parseltongue.

Tom turned in his arms. Harry stared down at him as the copy began to play with the strings on his nightshirt.

"_Harry_."

"_Yes, Tom_."

"_Do you like me_?" the clone asked hesitantly.

Harry played with the clone's hair - his hair. "_Yes, very much_."

"_I'm not a burden_?"

Harry shifted as Tom looked up at him, waiting for an answer. "_Sometimes_," Harry answered honestly. "_But I don't mind_."

Tom looked back down at Harry shirt and the fingers that were splayed over the fabric. "_I look a lot like you_," he said in a small voice.

"_Yes_."

"_But I'm not you_."

"_Not completely_."

Tom looked up. "_I would like to be a part of you. Then, we could never be apart and I wouldn't be a burden_."

Harry tightened his grip around the boy. "_I like you like this_."

"_Why_?" Tom struggled, his voice desperate. "_I can't help you like this. I'm completely useless. It feels worse than when I was alone_!"

Harry flipped them. Tom yelped as Harry turned him over. The seeker's toned body towered over him as Harry pressed their thighs intimately together. Harry deftly grabbed Tom's hands, pulling them above his head. Tom stared up at him, scared that he had said something to anger him and not understanding.

"_I wish you had your own body_," Harry admitted. "_So that people wouldn't judge you. But I've long gotten used to seeing my face in your own. I can hardly see it anymore_."

Tom stared at him with Harry's verdant eyes wide and young. Harry leaned down so his mouth was level with Tom's ear. Tom laid still, trustful but confused.

"_I like touching you_," Harry whispered into his neck. "_Don't you like it when I touch you_?" he asked, breathing over sensitive skin

Tom arched, pressing their chests together. "_Yes_," he hissed.

"_Would you want to take this away from me_?" His lips pressed over Tom's pulse, caressing hot flesh.

Tom squirmed deliciously and Harry pulled back to look at him. There were tears in Tom's eyes, but he smiled up at him confident and preciously nervous.

"_Never_."

Harry kissed him. Tom felt like he had exploded. Harry's movements were slow and sensual, a flame creeping up the boy's flesh. Harry released his hands and Tom kept them beside his head, letting Harry do as he liked. Tears still clung to his lashes and he closed his eyes. Harry's hands roamed over him beneath fabric and covers. Tom cried as he responded, arching, moaning. Harry kissed him until he was delirious. His knees rose to either side of Harry's hips as the Boy-Who-Lived laid across his chest, running his hands on the underside of his arms, the delicate skin of his pale limbs.

Tom was dying all over again. His hands found Harry's face. He framed his chin, wanting him to know how much he loved him, spilling every emotion, everything he could ever give and had given into his small hands on that fragile grip. Harry looked at him and kissed the inside of his wrist. Tom smiled and Harry leant down, taking in Tom's neck. Tom turned his head to give him more room. His body waved in time with the suction of Harry's lips. Harry's hand cradled his neck exposing more space at the same time that his other hand dipped under the covers. He slid down Tom's pajama bottoms.

Tom raised himself to let them fall off, ever trusting and confident in Harry's attention and his warmth. Harry wrapped one slender leg over his back and Tom kept it there. His hands gripped Harry's shoulders and he thrashed beneath his tongue. Tom felt Harry's erection between his thighs, straining against his pants. Tom pressed into him, rubbing their friction together. Harry's breath caught.

He raised up, leaving Tom's bereft. The copy looked up in worry, fearing he had done something forbidden, but Harry pulled his shirt up over his head. Tom laid back, watching him with glory and admiration in his ethereal depths. The pants hung low on his hips, tented over his groin. Tom did not move and his eyes never left Harry's face. Harry was around him again, holding him close. His strong arms were wrapped around Tom's back, his chin tucked into the joint of Harry's neck and shoulder.

"_Do you want to be a part of me_?"

Tom laid his hands across Harry's back, taking the warmth and togetherness of the two of them.

"_Yes_."

---

Overall, this year had been far less eventful than his previous years. Though it had by far been the most interesting. With the school year almost over, Draco was wandering the halls lost in reminiscences. Voldemort and escaped convicts were not threatening the school on a daily basis. His father was in Azkaban and had stayed there. There was not the looming threat of Dark marks and death, only end of year exams and gossip.

And Harry.

Draco had not been able to get the boy out of his head or his small duplicate. The Boy Wonder had isolated himself and many attempts had been made by his friends to get into his good graces, but Harry was frankly not interested. The Gryffindors had scattered, feeling hurt and deprived, but Draco understood. They were not Dark enough to comprehend. Harry was saving them from getting even more injured.

Harry never went anywhere without his shadow. He had become a silent entity as the Boy-Who-Lived's side. The pair was inseparable and Draco could only imagine what went on between the two when no one was looking. They looked at each like they kept the greatest secret imaginable. They loved each other. Draco could see it. Anyone could see if they cared to look.

They worked well together. Beautiful and alone, the two of them against the world. They were destined for travesty.

Draco was passing the gardens when a sight beyond comparison caught his attention. Harry had the smaller him beneath him. They were naked. The moonlight shone off their limbs and Harry's broad back. The clone had his legs wrapped around Harry's waist as Harry dug deeper into him. The clone bit off a cry, a barrage of hisses carrying off seductively into the night. Draco was frozen beside the trellis.

Harry cradled his doppelganger. Their limbs intertwined, a parody of romance. Their hair was as dark as jet, polished ebon curls like lampade limbs. Pale and beautiful like something destructively breath-taking. He watched their coupling trying to feel disgusted and failing miserably.

Harry looked up. His eyes bored into his and his smile serpent-like and insane. Like death himself. The copy laid on the grass, panting. He lolled back his head and caught Draco's gaze. He smiled. It was Harry's smile, sheepish and shy with hidden mirth. Nothing like the mischievous and impish smirk that graced Potter's lips now. He was more beast than wizard, and Draco was drawn to it, to the both of them.

He left the safety of the trellis, discarding clothing as he went. Harry waited. The clone's arms came up, stroking Harry's arms with slender, deft fingers. Draco met Harry with a savage kiss, plundering, raping, devastating. Harry gave a violent thrust and the clone cried out. They moved together. Harry lied atop the copy, his dick still in his ass, while Draco covered them both. Harry kissed the clone while Draco dug into Harry. Harry's body clenched at the violation and his bit down on Tom's tongue. Tom caressed his face, loving and caring.

Draco bit his shoulder and Harry cried out, arching and inadvertently digging himself further into his copy. Tom's legs were spread wide around them, his hands clenched tight into the grass. Harry panted over his shoulder, swarmed with the pressure of the body beneath him and atop. Draco held him up by a hand on his chest. Harry clenched around his prick and Draco drew back before slamming forward. Harry's cry was caught by Tom's mouth. Tom's legs ran lazy circles around Harry's calves as he was fucked into his first lover.

The three swayed together, caught by the full moon and the lure of forbidden Dark. They lied together under the cloak of wind and night, unable to move their sweaty and sore bodies. Tom played with Harry's hair and hummed the blonde and brunette to sleep. Draco and Tom cradled Harry between them, unable and unwilling to let go.

There was no way this could end well, spiders caught in a silver web of Fate. Dark and beautiful in their deaths.

---

Draco could now be seen talking to the mysterious Potter and clone. They sat at the Slytherin table, indifferent to chagrin and insult. They laughed and they were able to see the enigmatic copy allow Draco's touch, something he had been completely averse to from anyone other than Harry.

Draco had joined their room in the infirmary and, despite admonishment from the faculty, continued to come. Snape and Pomfrey were finally silenced by Tom leaping into Draco's lap, tear-eyed begging that they not banish the blonde from him. (Translated by Harry of course.) No one could say much to that. Harry's honest innocent eyes worked on everyone. After repeated sexual encounters, Draco was finally beginning to understand what Tom was saying.

Of course, Harry had explained to Draco who Tom was after that encounter in the garden. Although he could not speak parseltongue, he was beginning to decipher Thomas' swirling lilt. The boy was a balm. Though Draco's main interest was first and foremost Harry, Tom was being woven around his heart too. Tom would always be closer to Harry than Draco as well.

Draco felt it coming, the end of all things. He cuddled close to Harry at night, feeling the scarred boy breathe and sleep between them as Tom hummed softly. The three of them were connected. Draco and Harry had always been connected, marked for Darkness by blood and prophecy, and Tom had been a piece of his soul since he was an infant.

The day before the train was to leave for London, the three ran away. They disappeared in the Scottish mountains. For a month he and Harry lived off spring water and stunned hares while Tom lived off clean pure air. Under Draco's guidance, they left the range and appeared in a muggle town off the coast of Ireland. From there, they took a boat to one of the many islands that dotted the coast.

They lived beneath the moon and the enchantment of nature and magic. For a year, no one saw hide nor hair of them. Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban. The Order of the Phoenix struggled with Death Eaters, dementors, and other Dark creatures while searching religiously for their savior. The Ministry was attacked, and Pius Thicknese took power under the influence of the Imperious.

People died. Friends were tortured and driven insane. England became a battleground. Dumbledore died. Severus Snape became the Head of the Order. Hogwarts closed.

Harry sat at the edge of the ocean, staring at the endless stretch of tears and froth. Tom sat beside him, leaning on his shoulder and holding his hand. Draco stood to his other side, reviewing the sunset critically. The wide stretch of red and yellow disappeared into blue and green, until darkness overwhelmed the sky.

Harry heard Voldemort laughing in the echo of his scar. Tom whispered hisses into his ear, a question he could not hear over the dull roar of death. White masked men stood over the square in Diagon Alley. The streets were deserted. The windows were shut. Fire. Screams. Blood.

Draco knelt beside him, drawing the boy into his grip. Harry let his head rest on Draco's strong chest. One hand rose to rest on his arm, lighting there tenuously like it could be swept away with a breath. Tom sobbed into his back, grabbing onto the fabric of his old-fashioned tunic. Draco held him. And though the two could not overcome Fate, they comforted him as best they could. Harry heard the roar of death, screams of Avada Kadavra amid the throes of torment through the halls of Malfoy Manor.

Standing, Tom and Draco joined to either side of Harry, balm and shield. With a pop, they disappeared, leaving no trace that they had been there at all. The birds began the song of night as the waves hit the shore. Night continued while halfway across the country chaos reigned with an iron fist. Bitter laughter was heard like a distant echo over the countryside as Harry rushed through the wards of Malfoy manor with his charge and lovers.

---

The three landed in the middle of a meeting. They straightened to the stunned faces of Voldemort and his horde of Death Eaters. Draco made out the shocked faces of his parents but truly could barely recognize them. Tom met the red gaze of the rest of his soul and shivered, clutching to Harry. Harry paid him no mind, his attention focused entirely on the half-man before him.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort greeted like he would an old friend.

"Draco!" Narcissa shouted, the shocked silence broken.

Draco surveyed his mother indifferently, staying by Harry's side.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lucius shouted.

"What a pleasant surprise," Voldemort charmed pleasantly. Harry could see the bloodstained hands of the once-wizard buried in the length of his dark robes. "I had wondered where you had wandered off too. And two of you no less."

Draco took this as his hint and easily disentangled Tom from his grip on Harry. Tom gave him a wide-eyed look and moved himself reluctantly away, his gaze never leaving Harry. The Death Eaters watched the interaction with interest. Harry lifted his wand, pointing it directly at Voldemort's heart.

Voldemort laughed. "Come to kill me, Harry. We all know you're too much a child. You think a year in hiding would make you braver."

But he hadn't been hiding, Draco thought, though he said nothing. He had just wanted time. He had needed it to come to terms with what Tom had shown him, with what Draco knew from the moment he had walked into the hospital wing and saw them sitting on the sill.

He was going to die. He was going to save England and he was going to die.

Draco held onto Tom as the boy cried silently against his arm. His grey eyes were locked on Harry, fiery with the remembrance of his body beneath his. The feeling of Harry's wild cries in the middle of the night beneath the moon and the wood. The gentle flow of his words as they conversed while Tom played with the spiders in the cabin. The warmth of the fire in the hearth as they read to each other in parseltongue. The song of their pain personified by the hissing hum of Tom's ballad.

Bathing in moonlight, skin on skin. Dancing in the forest on the mountain between the fey. The whisper of a silent noon with nothing between them but smiles and the breeze.

The first curse Harry sent was deflected by a hasty shield. Harry's hair was wild and unkempt, sweeping over his eyes, but all he could think about was the passion in those green grassy orbs when Draco pounded into him. Harry curved around a hex, dancing out of reach of the lightening strike.

Thunder clapped over the field the first night they spent out in the open. The sky opened and poured buckets and Tom and Harry had danced. Lightening struck the ground only feet from Harry. Exhilarated, Harry had only laughed and pulled Draco to dance with him.

Harry maneuvered around Bellatrix's outstretched arm, knocking the wand from her. A spell sent her spiraling into the wall with a loud crash.

Draco and Harry had gotten into a fight. Tom was cowering the corner as they yelled. Harry flung a plate at his head, missing. It crashed into the wall and shattered. Harry was so surprised by his action that he could only stare mutely at the wall where the plate had imploded but by then Draco had divested him of his clothes and was kissing harsh trails down his neck.

Harry met the demonic red eyes before him, not stopping in his path of destruction. A curse shattered his left eardrum. Blood flowed down his neck but Harry didn't flinch. His wand was out and he was casting out curse after curse without speaking. Voldemort countered as Death Eaters were caught in the reflected hexes. Bodies spread around the floor haphazardly like dolls.

The front doors burst open as the Order flooded in, eager to use the mayhem to their advantage. Harry bent under the curling hex. It passed over his stomach, exploding the wall above Draco and Tom's heads. They covered themselves, hoping that their cry of startlement had not distracted Harry, but Harry's mutilated eardrum had insured his deafness as he fought.

The last Death Eater was stunned and the Order could only watch as Harry struggled to land a blow. Tom's grip on his arm was throbbing. Draco was leaning forward, bits of shrapnel and wall clinging to his hair.

"Come on," he whispered, his frantic eyes searching every move for weakness.

"_Harry, please_," Tom sobbed.

Twin Avada Kadavra's met. The light pooled forward, striping the oxygen from the air. The twin cores reacted and the explosion blasted them apart. Harry impacted with the wall harshly. He fell to the floor, struggling to his feet weakly. Voldemort did not fair much better. A line of crimson blood trailed over his face. His insane eyes were smirking as he continued to fire off curses. Fire wrapped around Harry's torso, tearing through his tunic like a whip before Harry was able to break free.

A crucio clung to his leg and he stumbled, falling behind the upended table. Green light broke the table in half. Harry shot out a Dark spell. The hex hit Voldemort in the face and his skin began to flake as the water was drained from his blood. He screamed and Harry used the distraction to aim another killing curse. The curse struck, but as Tom had predicted, the green light twisted. It caught him full in the chest. Harry crumpled over and swayed for a moment before he hit the floor.

It took a moment for everyone to realize that it was over. Draco rushed forward with Tom. Tom reached Harry's body first. He gathered the crippled bloodied mess into his arms, sobbing in the common language of grief.

Voldemort squirmed and Harry started coughing. The Order had finally managed to gather themselves when the screaming started. Draco held Harry down, straddling his waist. Tom held his head, crying for him to wake up even as he knew it was impossible.

Draco looked up. "You have him?"

Tom nodded. Draco clambered to his legs, reaching for Voldemort.

"What do you think you're doing?" Snape shouted as he began to maneuver the thrashing body of the Dark Lord.

Draco ignored him. He looked to Tom and after receiving a terrified but steady nod, he cut through the wards just as Harry had taught him. Hufflepuff's cup, Slytherin's locket, and Rowena's headdress flashed into the room. Draco lit them up with fiendfyr. Voldemort's screams escalated. Tom grabbed his chest, and the fiendfyr gripped him too. He huddled over Harry's form, struggling not to cry out as the flames licked at him.

"What are you doing?" several voices called over the roar of fire.

The heat seared through Draco and he coughed, loosing the tie around his robes. The flame grabbed Voldemort tugging him into the depth of blue heat. Draco crawled to where Tom was lying over Harry, his body covered in blisters and the brilliant blush of fire. A pillar toppled somewhere as the manor began to collapse in on itself.

Draco crawled over to Harry. He met Tom's weak and strained smile over the savior's unconscious body.

"It's done," Draco said through the smoke of parched air.

"_Yes_," Tom croaked. "_It is finished just as he said_."

Draco swallowed dry air as he felt the fire begin to grab his feet. "Do you think he's waiting for us?"

Tom smiled and this time though the pain it was real. "_I know he is_."

---

The fire consumed them, taking the remnants of Malfoy manor with it. Snape watched it from the lawn as the flames contained themselves to brick and mortar.

The war was over.


End file.
